


Twins of a Different Name

by DeathStricken (douchebagmcpickle)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: The Fielder Twins, and also none of this is planned so if it gets weird, read and find out, so this is some runaway shit, tw, tw abuse, tw physical abuse, what are those?, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:10:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5088440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/douchebagmcpickle/pseuds/DeathStricken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper Fielder knew that one kid could only take so much pain before it was time to get out of there. </p><p>Runaway AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Im DouchebagMcpickle, or DeathStricken if you know me from Tumblr or FF.net. This is my first time posting on ao3 so let's see how this goes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeeeeah so the title is still a wip :|

"Looks like a storm out there."

Dipper couldn't stop the cringe from working its way onto his face. The wind whipped the snow wildly, making it almost impossible to see outside. He could hear the window panes rattling through the shack.

"You want to stay the night, kid?"

He turned his head towards the voice of his current boss, Stan Pines. He stood at the door that lead into the house part of the shack with a worn out jacket in his arms.

"Oh, uh, no, it's alright," Dipper said, forcing a smile. "I can make it home."

Stan looked skeptical, and Dipper didn't blame him. He was a good con man, this whole place was standing proof, and a good con man knew a lie when he saw one.

"Alright, suit yourself," he said with a shrug. He tossed the jacket over the counter, which hit Dipper in the face. The teen held the coat out in front of him. Dipper thought that it must've been red at some point, but had faded to a worn orange-brown colour. It was torn in places and the fur along the hood was patchy and kind of gross to touch.

"What's this for?" He asked, looking over at the elder man.

"I didn't see you come in with a coat. Wouldn't want you to freeze to death out there. You're my best employee."

"Wow, uh, thanks Mr. Pines." "Yeah, don't mention it." He waved a dismissive hand. "Seriously don't. Now, get out of here."

Dipper smiled and pulled the jacket on. It was way too long, and when he stood up hung to his knees and the sleeves were about a foot too long. This was the exact opposite of a problem. "Thanks, Mr Pines, see you tomorrow!" He picked his backpack up from behind the counter and slung it over his shoulder before opening the door and heading outside.

The wind hit him in the face like a brick wall. Snow whipped around him and the cold nipped at his face. He pulled the hood up over his head and zipped the jacket all the way up. He took a step forward and his foot sunk into the thick layer of powder coating the ground. His ratty sneakers began to fill with snow.

The first thought that came into his head was _how the fuck am I going to sleep in this_ , and then his second thought was _where the fuck am I going to sleep in this_. His third thought was _why even bother leaving_.

He trudged forward, walking in the direction of the town. When he reached the tree line, he turned and walked along the edge until he found himself behind the shack. Then he walked up the the shack and sat down in a corner. The jacket was long enough that when he sat, the cold wasn't touching his ass and soaking through his jeans, the only "clean" clothes he had. He held his bag in his lap, curling up as far into the corner of the building he could. Dipper pulled the hood down over his face, trying his best to shield it from the cold. His pushed his hands into the pockets of the coat.

The tips of his ears very quickly began to go numb. His body shivered, teeth chattering, nose running (then freezing). He pulled his hands out of his pockets and brought them close to his face, breathing hot air into them. All this did was make them colder.

 _Fuck Oregon_ , he thought bitterly. _Fuck Oregon and fuck winter._ While he'd survived the past two "winters", he was in places where there was no snow or freezing cold. He didn't have to curl up in a ball and worry about frostbite. He could just do what he normally did. But oh no, he had to come to Oregon. He had to go and find himself a job. Stupid, stupid.

An hour passed, and then two, and he wasn't sure if he'd see the next day. He wasn't sure if he was going to see Wendy again and tell her how pretty he thought she was, no matter how much she didn't think she was. Or ask Soos how old he was, because seriously, was he 18, was he 30, he had no idea. He wasn't sure if he'd ever see Mr Pines again, and thank him for giving him some sort of job, and making him feel like he mattered somewhere.

His eyes feel heavy, and he couldn't tell whether he was seeing a white light or if it was the snow. He closed his eyes, and immediately he saw Mabel, sweet Mabel. He could hear her laugh, her happy squeal, see the look of pure joy on her face. He wondered what she looked like now. Tears slid down his cheeks. They began to freeze halfway down. He shivered violently. He sneezed twice, and made a strange hiccup-y noise. His toes and fingertips went completely numb at some point, and he could feel a wave of relief wash over him. He couldn't open his eyes. Part of him said it was the cold, another said it was time to sleep.

 _Dear god_ , he thought to himself. _I know you can't hear me. And I know religion is a lie. I know I've never believed in you before and I know you have no reason to do anything for me. But please, God, if you're there, please have mercy on me, and either let me die now, or let someone find me. I don't want to suffer. I can't beat this much longer._

>)| |(<

"Dipper Fielder! Get down here now!" Dipper groaned. He tossed the blankets off of him and peeled himself up off the bed. A shiver ran up his spine when his bare feet came in contact with the cold, wood floors.

"Dipper!"

"I'm coming!" He yelled back, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Fuck me..."

The teen picked up an old Star Wars tshirt and pulled it over his head, ignoring the musty smell coming from it. His hair puffed out when his head pushed through the hole in the fabric.

He walked down the carpeted stairs, only in boxers and the crusty tshirt, his eyes barely open enough to see his angry mother and nervous-looking twin sister.

"Dipper! It's Sunday! Get upstairs and changed for church, now!" His mother yelled. The teen could she his sister cringe behind her. She gripped the skirt of her dress tightly. He could see how uncomfortable she looked; she always did. Mabel would prefer a hand-knit sweater to her itchy church dress any day.

"I'm not going to church," Dipper snapped tiredly. His voice dripped with a tone that said "I can't believe you woke me up for this".

Steam practically began shooting out of her ears. "That is not an option. Upstairs and dressed. We will be late if you don't hurry up."

"I'm not going," he fired back, his voice raising slightly. He didn't want to deal with this, not today.

"Get your ass upstairs and dressed, or so help me, Dipper Fielder!"

Mabel whimpered by the door. Her fists gripped her dress so tight that her knuckles were turning white. Her eyes were watering, tears threatening to spill over her cheeks.

"Go wait in the car, Mabes," Dipper said gently, jerking his chin in the direction of the door. She gave him a look that said 'you'll meet me there?' He gave her a look that said 'probably not'. She released her dress and walked outside, leaving the door open behind her.Neither of them said anything until they heard the car door open then close.

"Dipper, this is not up for discussion. You are going up to your room and getting ready for church," his mother said, her voice stern, her eyes even more stern.

"No, I'm not. You're going to go to church, and you're going to stop scaring Mabel." Dipper crossed his arms, standing on the first step of the stairs so they were on equal playing grounds.

"You're going to drop your attitude and do as I say."

"Religion is a choice, and I choose not to base everything I do on a book written hundreds of years ago by some unknown author."

"You will not insult the bible in this house!"

"Until someone gives me some conclusive proof, I'm not following some stupid book, I'm not going to church, and I'm certainly not believing in some bearded asshole-"

A piercing sound rang through the air, cutting Dipper off mid sentence. He stared in shock for a minute, before lifting his hand up to touch his cheek. It stung, and he could feel the heat radiating from it.

_She hit me._

_She actually hit me._

"You will not insult Jesus Christ in this house. You are going upstairs and coming to church." The teen cleared his throat and looked down at his feet.

"Yes, mom," he muttered quietly, and walked up the stairs. To get dressed and ready for church.

When he slid into the car in his church clothes, Mabel reached up and touched his now-red cheek. He tried to hide his cringe and brushed her hand away. She nodded to herself and sat back. When she reached over and took his hand, Dipper gave her a gentle squeeze. He looked up when she squeezed back, and saw teardrops on her skirt.

>)| |(<

"Goddamit, Wendy, stop eating all my food!"

Wendy Corduroy smirked at her boss, leaving the kitchen with a bag of Cheetos in her hand and a juice box tucked under her arm. Her fingers and the corners of her mouth was already covered in cheese dust.

"Sorry, Mr Pines," the ginger teen said, sitting down on the floor. "But if you got Cheetos, imma eat them."

Stan rolled his eyes. "While you're up-"

"I'm not-"

"Go get me a Pitt Cola, would ya?"

It was Wendy's turn to roll her eyes. She stood back up, leaving the Cheetos and juice on the floor and walked back into the kitchen. She pulled the fridge open and grabbed a pink can of soda. Then she heard a weird noise. It almost sounded like a sneeze.

"Gesundheit," Wendy said when she walked back into the room. She passed the soda off to her boss before sitting back down.

"What? I didn't sneeze?" Stan said, his voice saying 'Jesus get ahold of yourself.'

"Really? Huh, I thought I heard a sneeze." She shoved a handful of cheese puff into her mouth and shrugged. "Wha'e'er."

"It was probably just the wind," Stan said, reclining the chair back. He patted around the chair arms for the tv remote. "Wendy have you see the-"

"TV's out. Won't get through the storm," she said, stabbing the plastic straw into the cardboard juice box.

Stan groaned. "Does that mean I have to talk to you?" He asked like it was the worst task in the world.

"Hell no," Wendy replied. "Trust me, there are many things in this world I can go without knowing." And cast a sideways glance and him. "And plenty of things that I have no reason to tell you."

Stan let out a sigh of relief. "Thank god, I don't think I could handle it."

And then Wendy heard that sound again. The way Stan stopped gave her the idea that he heard it too.

"Still think I'm crazy?" Wendy asked, already standing up. "I'm gonna go look outside. You got a flashlight 'round here somewhere, old man? Or am I gonna have to put some oil in the lantern? Light a torch maybe?"

Stan stood from his recliner and rummaged through a drawer. He tossed a flashlight at the teen. "Good luck out there, I don't think the flashlight is going to make a difference."

"Worth a shot," Wendy replied, sliding her arms into her red plaid jacket and zipping it up. She pulled the hood over her head. "Back in a few."


	2. Chapter 2

"Hey, Dipper!"

Dipper looked up from his locker, turning his attention to the boy running at him full speed. He held his bag which one arm and a clarinet case in the other.

"Wirt," Dipper greeted with a smile. "Uh, hey, what's up?"

"Not much," the taller boy replied, taking a moment to catch his breath. "I've taken up the bassoon."

"Then why did you sign out a clarinet?"

Wirt looked down at the case in his head and slapped a hand against his forehead. "Dammit, stupid muscle memory."

Dipper laughed slightly and turned back to his locker. He shoved a pair of binders and an astrology textbook inside his backpack.

"Do you wanna hang out sometime?" Wirt asked, looking away, a pink tint to his cheeks.

"Yeah, sure," Dipper replied, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "We hang out all the time."

"No, I mean like..." The taller trailed off, looking down at his feet. "I mean, like a date..."

"Really?" Dipper asked without meaning to. His face flushed with embarrassment. "I mean...y-yeah. Yeah. Uh, when were you thinking?" He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

"Do you want to watch today's football game with me? After school?"

"Uh, yeah, okay sure," he said, nodding, shifting his bag awkwardly. "That sounds great."

"Meet me on the bleachers?" Wirt asked. Dipper nodded, and the other boy smiled, before leaving.

A date, Dipper thought giddily. A date with Wirt.

>)| |(</p>

  

"Hello!" Wendy called, gripping her hood down to keep it from flying back off her head (not that it mattered, she was wearing a hat). "Is there someone out here?"

She shone the light around her, but it made almost no difference. The snow was still like a wall. Or a very dirty window. Or trying to see her dad's chest through his chest hair. She shuddered at the last one.

"Hello!" She called, stomping her boots into the snow to try and get some traction. She was glad she was used to the harsh winters, or else she'd have probably been screwed.

A small sneeze was heard, and Wendy whipped around. Who was crazy enough to be out in this cold? How were they even still alive?

Wendy trudged forward, waving her flashlight around to try and get some sort of hint of anything but snow. She walked until she could see the light beam up against the walls of the shack. She turned, waving the light around, before she heard another sneeze.

She turned to face the building, then pointed the light down. Dull yellow light illuminated the face of a boy with a scruffy chin and a messy of tangled curls. He was drowning a faded orange-brown jacket, but he still shivered violently. His lips were blue and quivering, his eyelashes frosted closed.

"Oh my god," she said, her hand coming over her mouth. "Dipper?"

His lips parted and a small puff of air came out.

"Shit," she hissed, pulling his backpack out of his lap and slinging it over her shoulder. Wendy reached down and slid her arms underneath him, one under his knees and the other under his arms. With a "one, two, three, lift!" She picked him up, thanking him quietly for being so skinny.

"Stan!" She yelled, holding freezing boy close. "Open the fucking door!"

>)| |(<

Dipper rubbed his bare hands together, blowing into them to try and stay warm. This was the year they moved out of California for a few months while their house was being renovated. He wasn't used to the cold weather at all. Gloves were practically foreign.

He zipped his jacket up as far as it would go, and rubbed the tips of his ears. He regretted not wearing a hat. How do these people sit out here watching this without freezing to death? He wondered silently to himself.

"Hey," a voice said beside him. Wirt slid onto the cold bleachers, a small smile and a light brush of blush on his face.

"Hey," Dipper replied, hoping that his own face was too flushed from the cold to notice his blushing. "It's really cold."

"Yeah," Wirt laughed. "It tends to do that this time a year."

Dipper shivered, pulling the collar of his jacket close to his face. "Not where I'm from."

Suddenly, something warm and soft was pulled over his head. He reached up and pulled it off. It was a red wool toque. He looked over at Wirt who was smiling sympathetically.

 

"Oh, no, I can't take your hat, you'll freeze," dipper said, trying to hand it back. Wirt pushed it back.

"Seriously, it's fine, I'm used to the cold."

Dipper studied Wirt's face, then pulled the hat over his head. Wirt breathed a laugh and Dipper bumped his shoulder against his.

"Are your hands cold?" Wirt asked. He was wearing a pair of brown fingerless gloves with a flap attached to the back that pulled over to turn them into mittens.

"You're not giving me your gloves," Dipper said, pushing Wirt's hands back with his own.

"Wasn't planning on it," the taller boy said, lacing his fingers with Dipper's. He let their hands sit in between their legs, out of sight of other people.

Dipper looked up at Wirt's face. Both of the boys were blushing. And as soon as they met each other's eyes, they started to laugh.

>)| |(<

"Thank you for dinner, Mrs Walter," Dipper said, standing up and taking his plate to the kitchen. He set it on the sink and grabbed a rag, starting to dry the clean dishes in the sink.

"Anytime, dear," Mrs Walter said, smiling at Dipper. "You really don't need to do those."

"It's the least I could do," Dipper said, setting the clean plate on the counter.

Mrs Walter smiled, setting a clean plate into the sink. "You're the nicest boy Wirt has dated. Much nicer than that Smith boy!" She yelled the last part so that Wirt could hear. Dipper could practically hear Wirt rolling his eyes.

"I get it, you didn't like Morty! His grandfather bursts in one time and suddenly he's a bad influence!"

"His grandfather was drunk, and I'm pretty sure he was too!"

"It's called a stutter, mom!"

Dipper laughed, tossing the rag over his shoulder and taking a stack of clean plates to the cupboard.

"Well, you're welcome anytime, Dipper," Mrs Walter said with a kind smile.

"Careful with what you say, mom," Wirt said, leaning against the doorframe. "We might accidentally get stuck with him."

Dipper walked over and tossed the damp rag over his head. "Now you're on dishes duty."

6 months with Wirt and Dipper could honestly say he'd never been happier. Mabel took notice almost immediately, but Dipper only said that he liked this place much better than California. He even started going to church with less of a fight. His parents believed that that's why he was happier.

He spent a lot of time with Wirt, hanging out at his place, watching movies, playing with Greg, kissing. He loved kissing Wirt. He loved the word. Kissing. It felt so powerful.

"Hey, mom, we're going to Dipper's tonight. I'll see you tomorrow." He gave his mom a quick hug, yelled goodbye to Greg and took Dipper's hand. He pulled him out the front door, with just enough time to hear his mother yelling at them to wear a condom. She said that every time they went anywhere. It made Dipper uncomfortable at first, but it didn't take him long to realize she was joking.

Wirt and Dipper walked hand-in-hand to the temporary Pines residence, which was a small rented house down the street from Wirt. Dipper knew his parents weren't home, so he just walked right in.

"Mabel! We're back!" Mabel poked her head out from the kitchen, a peanut butter and jam sandwich hanging out of her mouth. Her eyes darted down to their hands, then back up to Dipper's face. Dipper pulled his hand out of Wirt's and pretended it was because he needed to take his coat off. "Uh, we'll be up in our room."

"We'll try not to be too loud," Wirt said with a smirk before making his way down the hall. Dipper tried to hide his cringe.

"He was- I- it's not-" Dipper stammered, looking at Mabel. His sister shot him a knowing look.

"Do you love him?" She asked. Dipper blinked a few time, then nodded. "I'm glad. You guys are cute together. Is that Wirt?" Dipper nodded again, his eyes wide. "Hey Wirt!" She yelled down the hall. Wirt yelled something back like 'what?' "Wear a condom before you plow my brother, would ya?" Wirt laughed loudly from down the hall.

"Mabel!" Dipper exclaimed, his face bright red. She just shrugged, took another bite of her sandwich before giving him a shove towards the bedroom.  

Dipper shoved his hands into his pockets and walked down the hall into his and Mabel's shared room.

The room was split almost completely in half. There were twin beds on either side of the room. One half of the walls were completely covered with posters of boy bands and other miscellaneous cute things. There were pictures of her and her friends, and a couple of the twins, tacked up in between the posters. The floors were covered in glitter and fabric and clothes and just about everything you can imagine.

The other half, Dipper's half, was relatively organized. There were a few shirts on the floor, but his bookcases were filled with nearly stacked books, and his dresser wasn't overflowing with clothes. There were a few posters, mostly astrology, put up, but the walls were bare for the most part. There was a shared TV in the middle of the two halves, and it sat on wheels so it could be moved easily.

When Dipper walked in, Wirt was standing in front of his bookcase, looking at the rows of books.

"You have an interesting taste in reading," he said, reaching forward and pulling a book of poetry out. He flipped through the pages quickly, nodding slowly to himself.

"How so?"

"Well," he said, slipping the book back into place. "You've got textbooks and mythology and poetry and fiction. Astrology seems to be a general theme for the textbooks, monsters and realistic supernatural seem to also be trending. The fiction doesn't really follow a particular genre, because there's dystopia, and YA, and historical, and your poetry books are all collections from multiple poets, not a book from one single poet." He turned and shrugged. "Just a thought though."

Dipper rolled his eyes and pulled the tv over to the end of his bed. "Thank you for my literature analysis Captain Poetry." He plugged the TV into the wall. "Now pick a movie."

"Your taste in movies sucks," Wirt said, turning his attention to the shelf below the books. "Like, do you seriously own a physical copy of Con-Air?"

"Hey, Con-Air is a great movie!" Dipper defended. "Just hurry up a pick something."

"Fine," he pulled a movie off the shelf and tossed it over to Dipper. "Con-Air it is."

Dipper grinned and popped the movie into the DVD player. He grabbed the remote and crawled into the bed. Immediately he sat in between Wirt's legs and laid his back against Wirt's chest. Wirt rested his chin on Dipper's head and wrapped his arms around his shoulders.

They watched the movie for a few minutes, quiet, watching shitty Nicolas Cage kill a shitty person and go to shitty prison. He wrote shitty letters and said shitty words and it was all so shitty.

Wirt shifted about twenty minutes in. Dipper leaned forward to allow him to move, but instead, Wirt leaned forward and pressed his face into his neck. Dipper could feel him pressing kisses to his neck.

"This movie sucks," he said between kisses. Dipper turned around so he was straddling his waist and pressed his lips against his boyfriend's. Wirt smiled into the kiss and pushed Dipper onto his back.

Dipper made small content noises, tangling one of his hands into Wirt's hair. The other groped around for the remote and turned the volume up.

"What are you doing?" Wirt asked in a breathy voice. He pulled back slightly, his face flushed.

"You're really loud," Dipper teased before tossing the remote aside.

"Oh, I think you're the loud one," Wirt replied in a mischievous tone. Dipper rolled his eyes and pulled their lips back together before Wirt could try anything.

They'd been walked in on a few times before. The first time was Greg, Wirt's half brother, who only asked if either of them had seen Jason Funderberker (the frog, not the weirdo that Wirt was obsessed with hating).

The second time was Wirt's mom, who said something like "really, you've been up here for this long, and neither of you have your shirts off? Lame."

His step-dad walked in once or twice, only to walk out immediately. He yelled "get a room!" one time, and Wirt yelled "this is my room!" back.

But when someone walked in this time, Dipper knew it wouldn't be good.

His mother walked in, and both boys were too caught up with each other to hear it. Neither realized until Wirt was forcefully pulled off the bed.

"Ow!" Wirt yelled, stumbling off the bed. Dipper's stern-looking mother held Wirt by a fistful of his hair. "What the fuck!"

Mrs Fielder started walking, gripping Wirt's dark hair in her fist. Dipper jumped off the bed, running after them, screaming at his mother to let him go. His mother opened the front door and shoved Wirt out.

"Get away, and don't let me ever see you in this house again. If you come near my son, so help me, you will not see the light of day."

Dipper recoiled when she slammed the door. She was angry. She was angry and Dipper was going to feel it in the morning.

-

Wirt approached Dipper the next day. He pretended not to notice the bruises under Dipper's eye and on his cheek.

  
"I don't think we should see each other anymore," he said, and kissed the top of his head. It wasn't long after Wirt left that Dipper crumpled onto the floor and allowed himself to cry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wirt's last name is Walter because that was his original name before it was Wirt! Fun Fact.


	3. Chapter 3

"What's she yelling about?" Stan asked bitterly, standing up from his chair and walking over the front door. He pulled it open, and Wendy practically fell inside, a large bundle in her arms. Stan jumped back to avoid being tackled by his teen employee.

"Blankets! Now, get blankets, he's freezing!"

Wendy kicked her boots off and moved passed him quickly, dropping the lump onto the couch. She took her jacket off and lay it over the thing that was apparently male. Her hat came off next and over the head of the shivering form.

"Stan!" She said, her voice cracking. "Blankets! Or anything warm you have!" Wendy stood up and snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Earth to Stan! This is an emergency!"

When she moved, Stan could clearly see that the lump had a face. A flushed face with blue, quivering lips, and knit eyebrows. A scruffy chin and jaw, and a head of messy brown curls. A face that belonged to Dipper.

_He must've got caught in the storm_ , Stan thought. _I shouldn't have let him go. He could've died out there._

"Hot water, in a bowl," the old man said, suddenly serious. "Take off his shoes and put his feet in there. Fingers and toes are the first places that frostbite gets to."

Wendy nodded and ran off. He could hear water running in the kitchen.

Stan shuffled down the hall and grabbed an armload of blankets. He hurried back over to the couch and set Dipper up into a sitting position. He tossed Wendy's jacket aside and pulled his old one off. He wrapped the thin boy with blanket after blanket, and pulled Wendy's hat down further on his head.

Wendy came out minutes later with a large white bowl filled with steaming water. Stan quickly worked off his shoes (only to find them soaked inside and he wasn't wearing socks). The teen set the bowl on the floor and put Dipper's feet into the liquid.

"Where was he?" Stan asked. His shivered was slowing and the frost on his eyelashes was gone. Colour was starting to return to his lips.

"He was curled up behind the shack. I almost didn't find him, he was practically covered in snow." She dropped a large black backpack on the floor beside the couch. "He was cuddled up with his bag."

Stan looked at the bag. He brought that thing with him to work every day. He never let it out of his sight. He's considered asking him a few times, but now he was considering looking inside.

"Do you think he's homeless?" Wendy asked, taking one of his hands and rubbing it, trying to generate some heat.

_Maybe_ , Stan thought. _But he won't be after today._

>)| |(<

"C'mon, Dip, talk to me." Dipper pulled the blanket up over his shoulders, turning his back completely to his sister. "Dipper, it's been three days and I haven't seen you once. Just talk to me, I'm getting worried."

"I'm fine," he replied, curling his legs up to his chest. "Just let me go to bed."

"What happened, please talk to me."

"Nothing, leave me alone."

He heard Mabel sigh. "Dipper. I know something's wrong. Even a blind person would be able to tell something was wrong."

"Just leave it alone, Mabel. I want to sleep."

A stuffed toy hit his back. Then another hit the wall in front of him. A third hit his leg.

"Mabel, quit it."

Another came flying across the room, landed on his shoulder, then rolled off. Two sailed across the room at the same time, one landing beside his head, the other hitting the wall.

"Stop, I'm trying to sleep."

She threw another one across the room, a small beanie baby. It sailed across the room and plopped down on Dipper's cheek. He let out a small yelp of pain. Dipper sat up and turned around, hurling the toy across the room. It landed somewhere near the end of Mabel's bed.

"Oh my god, Dipper!" Mabel exclaimed, getting up and running to the other side of the room. She gently took his face in her hands, looking at the bruises carefully. "What happened to your face?"

"I'm fine, just leave it alone," he said, trying to pull his head out of her grip. She only tightened it more.

"Why didn't you ever tell me about Wirt?" She asked, lowering her voice.

"It doesn't matter, he broke up with me." Dipper pulled his head out of her hands and laid back down, pulling the blankets up over his shoulders.

"Oh, Dip, I'm so sorry. I guess it just wasn't meant to be..."

"Can you please stop," he snapped. "I'm so tired of you trying to be so goddamn optimistic. I just want to leave."

"Well you can't leave," she snapped back. "You're fifteen years old, you have no power whatsoever. You couldn't do anything even if you tried."

Dipper threw the sheets off to himself and stood up. He jammed his feet into his shoes and pulled a sweater over his head. "I'm going for a walk, don't follow me."

He walked down the hall and passed the living room where his parents sat. "You better not be sneaking out to see that boy," his mother threatened, looking up from her knitting.

"I'm not gay, Jesus healed me," he said bitterly, slamming the front door behind him.

He pulled his hood up over head and jammed his hands into his pockets. This town was small, and almost entirely surrounded by woods. Dipper stepped into the forest, breathing deeply in the smell of pine.

"Stupid religion," he muttered, bending over to pick up a broken branch from the forest floor. "It's like they're blind to their own stupidity." He walked forward, passing his stick from hand to hand.

"Gay a sin?" He asked aloud. "Have they even read the bible? Did you know cutting your hair is a sin? Or wearing clothes of two different materials." He gripped the stick hard. "Some foods are a sin. Foods you love!"

He stepped forward and swung the stick against the trunk of a tree. Bark flew off, landing scattered on the ground. "How about football, Dad?" He asked, turning and hitting another tree with his branch. More bark went flying. He felt the shock up his arms. "Touching the skin of a dead pig is a sin."

There were tears streaming down his cheeks when he unleashed his stick against another tree. "And all your gold jewelry? Sin!" He hit his stick against the tree again, and this time it snapped in half. He threw it as hard as he could across the woods.

"So why...why am I such a disappointment! Why do you hate me when all I've done is be myself! Why is my life such a goddamn inconvenience to you!" Dipper turned and let out a frustrated yell, sending his fist flying against a tree. His fist collided with the trunk, and a loud metallic clang rang through the air.

He stopped, stepping back. He pushed his palms across his cheeks and approached the tree. A panel hung open slightly, the front painted to match the bark pattern perfectly. He knew if he ever met the person who did this he would have to compliment their artistic ability.

Cautiously, he opened the panel up. Inside revealed a metal box covered in levers and switches. It must've been old, because it was covered in dust and spiderwebs. Dipper reached in and flipped one of the switches. Nothing happened, so he reached in and pushed one of the levers forward. Another metallic sound came from behind him. He whipped around and saw that a hole had opened up in the ground. He ran over and knelt down beside it. Inside, other than the dust and cobwebs, was a worn red book. The cover showed a golden six-fingered hand with the number three painted in the palm. It was dirty and ripping in places, but Dipper knew that only meant it was well loved.

He reached in and pulled the book out. With a deep breath, he blew the layer of dust covering the front off. Then he opened it.

_"It's hard to believe it's been six years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon. Unfortunately, my suspicions have been confirmed. I'm being watched. I must hide this book before he finds it. Remember: in Gravity Falls there is no one you can trust."_

"Gravity Falls..." He brushed his fingers along the pages of the book.

He spent the next few minutes in the woods, skimming through each page of the book. Gnomes, vampires, zombies, any creature you could think of. There was no way this was just any mass-produced book. It was a handwritten journal, made by someone in Gravity Falls. And Dipper would be damned if he didn't find out who it was.

The teen rushed back to the house as fast as he could. He hid the book as he walked back into his room. Mabel was curled up in her bed, her small form moving up and down gently.

He slid the book onto his shelf and kicked off his shoes. His sweater came off next, thrown into the corner somewhere. Dipper walked forward slowly, and crawled into Mabel's bed beside her.

"'n Kay?" She asked, pulling her blankets up over the two of them.

"All good," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her middle. "Sorry for being such a dick earlier. I know you're just looking out for me."

"Like a big sister should. Alpha twin." Her words were slurred and lazy, like she was barely conscious enough to be saying them.

"Alpha twin."

He pulled back away from her, picked up one of her pillows from the floor and jammed it under his head. He curled up in her bed, listening to her drift back off to sleep, before doing so himself.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Sorry this is so late (and short). Thank you for your love and support!

“Mabel, c’mere!” Dipper exclaimed, pulling out a deck of cards. He fanned out the deck in front his his sister, holding them in his small hands so they wouldn't slip. “Pick a card, any card!”

Mabel giggled and pulled one out of the deck. She brought it close to her face, studying it with “serious Mabel” face. She bit her lip to hold back her giggles.

“Okay, now put it back,” Dipper said, holding the deck out. Mabel placed it on top of the pile with such intensity and concentration, that it almost looked like she was preparing for surgery. “Remember your card?” He asked, continuing only when she nodded.

Dipper smirked, turned his back to his sister. She beamed, watching in bewilderment. He flipped her card over and peaked at it. Then he whipped back around and began to shuffle the cards. He stopped, fanned them out and pulled out the only card facing up.

“Is _this_ your card?” He asked smugly.

“Wow!” Mabel gushed, taking the card. “How did you do that! You're so magic!”

The 6-year-old beamed wide at the sounds of his sister’s excitement.

“Woah, bro-bro, how did you make your tooth disappear like that?!”

“What?!”

>)| |(<

When Dipper woke up, the first thing he noticed was how warm he was. Sleeping outside in the middle of a snow storm, you'd be surprised if you woke up warm too.

He opened his eyes. The room was dark, illuminated only by the flickering light of the television. A laugh track played on low volume.

“Ugh...my head,” he groaned, pulling himself up into a sitting position. Four or five blankets slid down off his shoulders. His leg was numb, the cause appearing to be Wendy’s head laying on it, sound asleep. “Where am I?”

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Dipper’s head snapped up at the sound of his employer’s voice. Stan sat in a ratty old recliner across the room, facing the television. He was looking directly at Dipper, still wearing his work suit.

“I- what’s going- where am I?” He pulled his leg out from under the elder girl, and moved to stand. He plunged his foot directly into a bucket of lukewarm water.

“You’re in the Shack. Or the house part at least. Wendy pulled you inside from the storm a couple hours ago. So, let me ask you again, what the hell were you thinking?”

Dipper bit his lip, looking down and focusing his attention to wiping his foot dry on one of the blankets. “Uh..well, I was thinking I was going to not tell my boss that I planned on sleeping outside so he wouldn't fire m-”

“Fire you!” Stan fumed, moving to his feet. Dipper flinched. “How about finding you froze to death under the snow behind the Shack!”

Wendy stirred and Dipper instinctively ran his fingers through her hair, hushing her gently.

“I- you don't understand-” he huffed, pushing his hands through his hair. He noted it would need to be washed pretty soon. “No one hires a homeless person. I need this job. I haven't been able to keep any other jobs, not after they found out. I've finally been able to feed myself steadily for the first time in a long time…”

Stan sighed. “Kid, I offered you a bed for the night. Why would you choose to sleep outside instead?”

The words ‘trust no one’ flashed in red in Dipper’s head. “I don't know…” He said quietly.

“Go take a shower.”

“What?” Dipper looked up at Stan, a confused expression on his face. Worry tugged at his stomach.

“You heard me, go take a shower, you smell like ass,” Stan said, pointing down the hall. “I already have one ass working and that's Wendy, so go clean yourself.”

“But, Mr Pines-”

“We’ll talk when you're clean,” Stan said dismissively, pointing again down the hall. “Towels are in the hall closet, use Wendy’s shampoo.”

“Uh, yes, Mr Pines…”

Dipper stood up and walked cautiously down the hall, feeling the paranoia crawl up his skin. He kept glancing back over his shoulder as he opened the hall closet and grabbed a dark blue towel. He slipped into the bathroom and closed and locked the door behind him.

His anxiety gripped his stomach, telling him that he wasn't safe, this was a bad idea, trust no one, trust no one, trust no one. He checked the lock twice before even taking his shirt off. Three more times before he was completely undressed.

As he made his way over to the shower, his reflection in the sink mirror caught his eye. He stopped to look at himself.

He was skinny, even for a teenager. One could count his ribs just looking at him. His pale skin was littered with scars and old marks of all shapes and sizes. He scratched idly at a thin, long line across his chest.

Dipper tore his eyes away from the mirror, approaching the shower. It wasn't anything special, at least not to anybody else it wasn't. But this thing was like a legend to him. It wasn't often he got to see, let alone use, a shower.

And he was going to enjoy every second of it.

>)| |(<

When Dipper stepped out of the shower, there was a stack of clothes folded neatly on the floor in front of the door.

He picked up the stack, carefully unfolding a pair of grey track pants and a worn graphic tshirt that he couldn't even read anymore. A slip of paper fluttered onto the floor from in between the clothing.

_Kid,_

_Your clothes smell. You can wear these while yours are being washed._

_-Stan_

“Hm.” He pat himself dry with the towel, gave his briefs a cautious sniff before deciding that they were safe for a few more days before he had to burn these and buy new ones.

He slipped into his underwear, then the pants. They were too long, so he rolled the waistband over a few times. The tshirt was no smaller, and hung off one shoulder. He looked ridiculous, but he felt clean and fresh and comfortable.

Dipper slid the note into his pocket and rubbed his hair furiously with the towel. It was finally clean and it smelled like various types of fruits and flowers (Dipper was surprised Wendy wasn't using men's shampoo and then at the same time he wasn't surprised at all).

He contemplated shaving, but decided against it, as he probably wouldn't have very many opportunities to do it again.

>)| |(<

“What's up with that book?”

Dipper looked up, pushing his reading glasses up onto his head. He closed the Journal and put it down in his lap. His sister stood at the end of his bed with her arms crossed.

“Since when do you care about my books?” He asked, raising an eyebrow. Mabel stuck her tongue out at him before flopping over onto the bed.

“I don't, but you've been acting weird, and the only consistency I've found is that dumb book.”

“Weird how?”

“I dunno…”

He looked at her pointedly.

“Weird like...zen.”

“Zen?”

“Yeah, zen.”

Dipper stared at her for a second, then snorted, sliding his glasses back on. “It's just a book I found,” he said, opening back up to the page he was on. There were two whole pages devoted to gnomes. He wish he could see them.

“What about?” She asked, sitting up and crossing her legs.

“Non-fiction.”

“Ew,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “What is it?”

“A small town in Oregon. It's called Gravity Falls.” He flipped to the first page and laid it down so Mabel could see. She leaned in, her eyes scanning over the words. “It's a Journal, documenting all the weird things that go on.”

“Who owns it?” She asked, picking up the monocle hanging between the pages and turning it over in her hands.

“I don't know,” he said, flipping to the front. “The author’s name was ripped out. On purpose it looks like.”

“Fancy,” Mabel said with a nod, placing the monocle back in the book. “So what's with the interest? Why does it got you ackin’ so cray cray?”

Dipper rolled his eyes and closed the book. “Because this is where I'm going. When I finally leave, that's where I'm going. I'm going to meet the author and find the two other journals. I need to see this town for myself.”

Mabel studied his face carefully. She looked like she was biting the inside of her cheek. Dipper started to get worried before her smile broke open and she thrust her fist into the air. “To Oregon away!” Dipper laughed and shoved her shoulder.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be lighthearted! (I think .-. )


End file.
